Creeping Shadows
by ii-Phoenix-ii
Summary: It took less than 24 hours for their world to come crashing down. [Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse]
1. The End

**Chapter 1: The End**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

**Summary**: It took less than 24 hours for their world to come crashing down. [Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse]

* * *

Petra stuck a green straw in the red fruity drink and sipped happily. She still had time before her classes started and life became hectic and super stressful once more, time which she intended to enjoy to the fullest. Sirens wailed and she paused to watch the third cruiser in the last five minutes to race down the street. _What's going on? _Was there a horrible accident? Or maybe a bank got held up? She even wondered if it had something to do with the riots downtown.

A small bookstore at the end of the street caught her eye, distracting her from her thoughts. The small brick building was one of her favorite places to visit. She loved used books. There was just something very special about them, aside from the obviously cheaper prices.

The bell jingled and she waved at the owner before roaming the mystery aisles. She perked up at the cover of the next book in one of her favorite series. There were so many books she kept up with that sometimes she lost track. Grabbing it, and another with a promising summary, she walked up to the register.

Outside, a fire truck zoomed by. "Wonder what that's about?" She mumbled.

"I was listening to the radio and they were saying something about a fire and riots near the Silver Fountain. I'd avoid that area today if I were you. I think there might be a gang war going on." The elderly woman shook her head, grumbling about lazy teens, violent video games, and drugs making a terrible combination.

"Yeah," Petra nodded and thanked her. She knew all the places with high gang activity and which gang they belonged to so she knew to stay clear of them. _There's never been any notable criminal activity reported in that area_. Either way, she had plans to be there for a dinner with her friends and figured it best to err on the side of caution.

On the one hand, it felt paranoid of her but on the other hand, she couldn't ignore the feeling of dread welling up in her stomach. A group text and the replies quickly confirmed she wasn't the only one exercising caution. They moved the hang-out to another date and place, not knowing it was the last time they'd ever hear from each other.

She hit a shoe store and a small boutique before she started back to her car. The fruity drink made trouble in her stomach when a dark green, tank-like truck drove by. _A humvee_, she thought they were called. _That doesn't look good_. It had been moving too fast but it could have been the Army. Had the situation become so bad that they had to be deployed? _The government wouldn't do that unless it was serious. _

Petra shook her head. Making assumptions, that wasn't like her. But she couldn't ignore the evidence before her. First responders and the military all rushing in the same direction. Could it have something to do with the riots? She didn't know. _I should go home well before sundown today_.

She made way for the grocery store to stock up, unable to help but notice the increased military presence by the minute.

* * *

Sasha Blaus was hungry.

She contemplated between the two options. Beside her, Connie tapped his foot impatiently. "Hurry up, I'm hungry," he complained. "This is why I hate it when it's your turn to pick."

"Shh! You can't rush this. It's a delicate process."

"Screw this! I'm too hungry!" Connie attempted to enter the restaurant with the large windows showing people enjoying their delicious meals. He was promptly yanked back.

"That one!" She dragged him to the one across the street. It was a small, brown brick building with two windows. A dozen or so customers were enjoying their food in the quiet, friendly atmosphere. Sasha immediately took a seat and began going through the menu. A few minutes later, they were eating happily. "I love Greek food."

"Hey, so did you hear about the riots near Silver Fountain?" Connie asked. "I heard the craziest rumors."

"What rumors?"

"That people were actually biting one another, like total cannibalism."

"Seriously?" A voice said from the table next to them. The duo turned to a young man with a long face and sandy hair. He looked irritated. "Are people actually believing that bullshit?"

"Jean..." His friend warned.

"I'm just saying, Marco, if that shit was really going down, wouldn't the government make a public announcement or something?"

"Maybe they don't want to cause panic," Sasha suggested.

"I really hope it's nothing and they get it under control soon," Marco said.

"I'm not worried," Jean shrugged. "It's not like—what?"

Connie and Marco looked pale, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Jean and Sasha, who were sitting with their backs to the windows and the door, turned around in time to see the last two trucks pass by. "That was the army, wasn't it?" Connie asked.

"If the military's involved," Marco looked very nervous, "how bad is the situation?"

"We need to go," Jean declared when silence fell.

"I thought you said you didn't believe in the crazy rumors," Connie said.

"That out there wasn't a rumor," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I don't believe any of this crazy shit about people biting and eating each other. There's no way they're..." He couldn't quite bring himself to say it. "That's ridiculous. It must be a gang. Or terrorists. Hell we're probably under attack from another country as we speak."

"Um, guys..." Sasha, who'd been quiet since they saw the trucks drive by, held up her phone. "Check this out." The men scooted closer to take a look at the video.

A grainy footage of a brunette woman with light brown eyes appeared_. "...people to stay inside. Do not leave your homes. This is a pandemic."_

Shots were heard through the phone, earning a few looks of disapproval and Sasha turned the volume down without thinking. The woman looked over her shoulder, one hand flying to her earpiece, eyes wide with terror. _"...police are firing at the infected."_ The camera moved shakily to half a dozen cops shooting at an eerily pale group of a dozen men and women running at them, mouths wide open with their arms outstretched.

A pale-eyed man tackled one of the cops, ignoring the shot to his abdomen, getting himself a mouthful of the screaming man's throat. The image changed as the camera fell. _"Wait, no!"_ A pair of legs tried to run away, but those heels weren't made for the task. _"Don't leave me!"_ Wide eyes and an ashen face appeared on the screen. _"Don't—"_ A pale hand grabbed her hair and forced her on her knees. Her screams were cut off by unnatural growls and gurgles.

The duo watched the woman's arms go limp by her sides. Blood started pouring down her chest and stomach and they heard wet chewing. Then the screen went dark.

"...It can't be real," Jean shook his head.

"Yeah, it's gotta be a hoax," Connie said hopefully.

"But it's SNN," Marco argued. "They don't do this kind of thing. They always report serious crimes and it's always factual. If this was a prank, their reputation as a reputable news source would be ruined—no, showing something like this could incite panic and cause pure chaos and that would bring down the entire network. Whoever's behind this would probably even be charged with fraud or manslaughter or whatever and sent to prison."

"Listen to this," Sasha began, scanning news articles, "apparently the cops and the military tried to contain it but they couldn't. The news people don't know why it happened." She had a hard time swallowing. "And it's a global phenomena."

"Holy shit," Connie choked out. "It can't be...it's not...it's not, you know..."

They were too afraid to say it. Somehow that would make it really real. "We should go," Jean said again. "Get out of the city."

They quickly called for their bills. "How come more people aren't aware?" Marco observed the restaurant's other occupants. Some had left after seeing the trucks, most were still there, eating and completely oblivious.

"No one randomly checks the news when they're having lunch," Jean said. "Or at any other point in the day. It's too fucking depressing, same shit day-in day-out."

"No, but what about social media?" Connie frowned. "Everyone has phones nowadays. This should be spreading like wildfire."

"Do you really think you'd believe something of this scale was happening with all the shit people put on social media these days to get more views or likes?" Jean asked.

"It's like that story about the Boy Who Cried Wolf. People might believe for the first few times. But when you see all the stuff some do online, when something really happens it's not as likely to be taken seriously. Understandably, it would be dismissed as another prank done by some attention whore." Sasha felt an irrational bout of anger at those people online, needing to blame someone for her fear.

Jean tossed some bills on the table. "We can discuss this later. We really need to get out of here."

"I knew we shouldn't have walked here," Connie groaned.

"Where do you live?" Marco asked.

"Red Oaks apartments, it's just a few minutes from here," Sasha answered.

"I know where that is. We can drop you off," he offered. "It's on our way, right Jean?"

"Sure, whatever, let's just hurry," he urged, standing and turning to leave.

The trio grabbed their stuff and quickly followed him. For once, the foodies couldn't care less about the meal. "Oof," Connie gasped, running into the taller man's back. "Don't just stop like that! Did you forget your phone or something?"

"It's here."

Eyes wide and fear on their faces, they moved from behind him. Outside, people were screaming, watching a group of teens tear an elderly couple apart. More were coming down the street, jumping the spectators frozen in shock and those too absorbed in trying to capture the attack on their phones instead of running for their lives.

* * *

"Heads-up!"

Armin's head snapped up and he hastily dropped the book in his hands and attempted to catch the black and white ball flying at his face. "Eren! I was in the middle of the good part!"

Eren rolled his eyes and snatched the book out of his friend's reach. "It's a chemistry book, dude." He moved it away when Armin tried to take it back. "C'mon, classes haven't started yet and you're already doing homework? Lame," he shook his head. "Let's enjoy the freedom while it lasts."

"Fine," he said exasperated and stood, fixing the creases in his bed.

Together, they walked through the dorms, carefully dodging students and parents alike. There were still many moving in. Eren had harassed his parents to move as quickly as possible, ready to be an independent adult and get away from them. He now shared a room with his childhood friend, who'd only agreed on the condition Eren keep their room neat and clean.

"I'm kind of hungry, you wanna eat first?"

"Sure," Armin shrugged.

"I've heard about this burger place near-by, we can—" Eren stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

He shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted. "No way..."

"What?"

"Look over there," Eren pointed, grinning, "near the parking lot with the trees. I think someone's being pranked."

Armin followed his gaze. A man with a red stained shirt was pounding on the windows of a green car. The occupants were screaming and shaking the vehicle as they tried to move into the back to get away. "That's so mean," Armin made a face. "I never understand why people think those kinds of pranks are funny. What if someone thinks it's real? It's all fun and games until someone gets brained."

"Look around, man, no one's buying it. They know it's all fake blood and make-up. I'm sure there's some idiot recording this," Eren looked around. "Maybe behind that tree—look!" He pointed to their right. "There are more! Ha! I bet this is like some tradition thing where the upperclassmen pull one over the freshman!"

Armin felt his stomach tie in knots. "This isn't high school, Eren. College students don't do that kind of crap."

"Of course they do! Haven't you seen any movies?"

"Sororities and fraternities do initiations sure, but only to their newest members. This, here, is way out of control. It's too chaotic, people could get seriously hurt. And there are children present, too!" He nodded to a young boy crying and hugging an older girl, most likely his sister, goodbye.

"Yeah..." Eren frowned. With great unease, he watched a man approach a bloodied girl with a torn arm, cell phone held high in hand. _He wants to take a selfie with her._ She grabbed his arm and pulled him in. _She's just posing_.

They nearly jumped at the blood-curdling scream and whipped their heads in the direction it originated. The scream had come from a woman standing paralyzed over a little boy, the same boy who they'd just seen crying and hugging his sister. The woman was screaming at the man, her husband, to stop. He ignored her, face buried into the twitching boy's stomach.

The duo stood still and stared, unable to get their bodies to listen, too shocked by the scene.

The girl ran back to the family, screaming and tackling the man off the boy. Stumbling, she stood and attempted to leave, but he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back, teeth sinking into her exposed throat and causing a fountain of blood to explode. More screaming erupted, some from shock and horror and some from pain and terror. _Snap out of it, you idiot!_

"Armin, call 9-1-1!" He yelled and ran over to the mom cradling her son. Eren saw his fingers twitch and felt relieved for a nanosecond. _He's alive_. Then all the horror movies came back and he swore. "Get away from him!"

The mother began babbling thanks to the sky, sobbing, thinking her son was alright. His head leaned into her face, almost like he was nuzzling her cheek for comfort. Until he opened his mouth and tore off a chunk of her flesh. The sight stopped Eren in his tracks. _Holy shit..._ His stomach threatened to reject his breakfast. A tingling feeling filled his mouth. _I'm gonna be sick_.

"EREN!" The terrified voice of his best friend pulled him out of his stupor.

He looked between Armin, on the ground, screaming and crying, trying to keep the man from biting him, and the hysterical mother, whose screams had become wet gurgles. _She's as good as dead._ Eren checked his surroundings, ignoring the screams and the people running around in search of a weapon. He spotted a big rock near the bushes and immediately ran to it.

Armin let out a sob, feeling his bladder release. He'd been shakily dialing the emergency number, forgetting he was standing out in the open, an easy target. Before he knew it, there was a weight on top of him and white teeth snapping together in a traumatizing way just inches from his face. The white-grey eyes of the man were staring hatefully into his own scared blue ones. A wet thud later, he stopped, arms going limp. Eren dropped the rock and pushed the body off his frozen friend. "Let's go!" He grabbed Armin and yanked him onto his feet.

They stood and watched, muscles tensed, as the horribly disfigured aggressors chased after the living. Most of the panicking humans were rushing towards the doors, trying to get inside. "T-that's a d-death t-trap," Armin shook. "T-they're going to be s-stuck."

Next to him, Eren nodded, searching their surroundings frantically. "We need to get out here." He reached into his pockets, eyes blurring for a second in sheer relief as metal dug into his flesh. "I have my keys. My car's parked close to here." He watched the undead warily, with plenty of live meat around, they were more distracted by the screamers and runners. "We'll sneak over there quietly."

"Stop it mom! Please!"

"No, no, no, no! This isn't isn't happening! It can't—"

"Get him off! Get him—ugeugh!"

"Please somebody help! Help me!"

Eren set his jaw and kept moving, Armin on his heels, watching his back. _They're all dead meat anyway._ A bitter sarcastic laugh bubbled in him at the unintentional pun.

The ones busy stuffing their faces ignored them as they hurried by. _It's the selfie guy_. Apparently she hadn't been posing after all. Now she ate his intestines like they were sausages of a Sunday morning breakfast. The corner of the parking lot where his car stood was almost empty. Fear had trumped logic and sent people cowering into buildings, eager to put a barrier between them and the undead and hide away. Only a few had thought through the panic and ran to the cars, speeding away from the slaughter.

"This...biohazard could be airborne," Armin clicked his seatbelt without thinking, the normal action brining a measure of comfort. "It could be everywhere. What if there's no escape? What if it's like the movies? Everyone has it? And when they die they turn." He rambled on. "Maybe they're not really dead. Maybe we shouldn't base anything on the movies. They really could be sick and it's making them violent. Yeah," he nodded to himself, "they're sick people and they need to be treated. There's no way they can be dead." He was in shock.

His best friend was agitated, mind preoccupied with thoughts of survival and his parents, and grew tired of the babbling. "Seriously? Sick people? I've never known a 'sick person' to walk around with his fucking chest ripped open and his heart sticking out. Why don't you just call them what they are?" Eren gripped the steering wheel. "Fucking zombies, man. This is the end of the world."

* * *

**_Please Review~ _**


	2. Run

**Chapter 2: Run**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

**Previously**: Petra hears about riots. Sasha, Connie, Jean, and Marco see the military trucks and decide to leave the city but the infected show up. Eren and Armin escape from their campus.

* * *

Sweat dripped down Mikasa's face as she panted. She wiped it away with the back of her arm, exhaling. The late afternoon sun shone down brightly, making the grass look greener. Smiling, she took a swig from her water bottle and placed the bokken in its bag. Around her, adults walked together, talking amicably while children ran around, screaming happily. Dogs chased their owners or after frisbees, tails wagging.

Mikasa checked the time and jogged home to Red Oaks apartments. Hunger clawed at her stomach and she wanted to eat as soon as possible. She took a quick shower and changed into jeans and a grey top, day-dreaming about the previous night's leftover meatloaf. Sasha, her best friend and roommate, was the most talented chef she'd ever known, currently attending the city's best culinary school with their neighbor and close friend, Connie.

Making a beeline for the fridge, she heated up the meatloaf and checked her phone while she waited. It was dead. _I really need to remember to keep charging this thing_. Hastily, she plugged it in, not realizing the other end wasn't in the socket, and walked towards the kitchen, hearing the ding. In her hunger, she'd forgotten about turning the phone off earlier because of the constant beeping, the result of one of her idiot friends and his love of chain messages, caps lock, and exclamation marks.

After finishing lunch and washing the dishes, she grabbed the grocery list off the fridge. _Hm, maybe I should do the laundry first?_ The washing machine would be done by the time she bought the food, returned her library books, filled up the car, and put the food away._ I should get gas for the car first_. The little needle had been nearing the empty sign the last time she checked.

Basket full of dirty clothes, she took the elevator down to the building's basement. Muffled shouts were heard as she descended, making her frown. Had a fight broken out? Or was it a domestic matter? With the clothes shoved in, she poured the detergent, and added the coins, hitting the start button and listening to the machine hum to life.

Stepping outside the laundry room and into the hallway, she looked between the stairs and the elevators. Basket under her arm, she turned towards the stairs. She opened the door and a flight ahead of her stood a young man with a bloodied leg. The moment he saw her, he let out a moan and charged towards her.

Mikasa reacted instinctively, throwing the detergent bottle and nailing him in the face.

A snapping sound, the breaking of bones as the body rolled down the stairs, sent a chill down her spine. Howling in anger, he started to get up less than a foot from her, not making any indication of pain. She immediately jumped over him and ran up the stairs, ditching the basket. Blood pounded in her ears and she didn't stop until she reached her floor.

Quickly closing the door behind her, she threw the deadbolt and backed up. _What the hell was that?_ Mikasa ran to her phone, then paused. What if she was arrested for attacking him? He hadn't done or said anything threatening to her. She shook her head. _No, he had a weird look on his face. Like...like some kind of drug addict_.

If the man was pumping who knows what kind of garbage in his body, it certainly explained a lot. The moaning and the lack of pain, it could have resulted from some sort of nerve damage. He was bleeding as well. _I have to make the call._ Before she could, a thud and soft moan came from the hallway. _No way. _He couldn't have followed her up without knowing where she lived. _What if he's a stalker? _

Or, more likely, an addict looking for a victim to mug so he could get his next fix. He'd cornered her in the basement stairs, where there were no witnesses and only one escape. _That makes perfect sense_. Mikasa's expression hardened. _You picked the wrong girl._ Retrieving her bokken, she threw her door open, ready to confront him.

The sight she saw made her freeze.

A woman stood, banging on the door closest to the stairway. She turned her white-grey gaze on Mikasa, fully revealing the exposed cheek bone and the red gore surrounding it. _What?_ The undead creature started towards her. _This can't be real._ Three doors down to her right, a man with a curious look on his face stepped out to investigate the origin of the thudding noise.

She latched onto him immediately.

"Oh," he gasped out, being pushed back into his home.

Mikasa shut her door shut and locked it. _Call the police, call the police, call the police_. She snatched her phone and kept hitting the main button, waiting for it to come to life. Frustrated, she squeezed the power button in anger. The screen lit up and she almost slapped herself, recalling her action from earlier.

Pacing restlessly for the operator to pick up, she kept repeating the now sure to be dead man's last word over and over in her head. Oh. Oh. _Oh_. He hadn't even had a chance to react properly before the creature had lunged for his throat. Mikasa had heard the squirting sound and the wet squelches. In the end, his entire life had been reduced to an 'oh.'

"Hello?" Relief overtook her as someone picked up. "Something's going at my apartment building—Red Oaks. There're some weird people with really bad injuries and one attacked my—"

That was all she got in before the line went dead.

Mikasa stared at her phone in dismay. Before she could call again, she noticed the red numbers. Seven text messages and three voicemails, all from Sasha. _Please, please, don't let it be what I think it is_. She turned on the TV. _Please let it be some horrible prank or some drug making people psychotic_. She didn't even need to turn it to a news channel, it was breaking news.

The footage being shown was like the scene that had just played out in her hallway a minute earlier, except on a much bigger scale.

Pale, bloodied, and seemingly dead humans attacking the living and tearing them apart with their hands and teeth.

Then she checked Sasha's messages, telling Mikasa she was okay and to get out of the city. She replayed the last voicemail. _"If you haven't seen the news, turn on the TV right now! It's crazy and it's real! And don't worry, Connie and I are okay. For now. We're gonna head to my parents' farm in the country. Meet us there!" _

Mikasa grabbed a duffle bag and threw in some clothes as well as water and food. She also took her phone charger, it would come in handy as long as the power grid didn't crash. Lastly, she picked up her bokken again, feeling a lot more confident with it back in her capable hands.

Mentally going over her plan, she made sure she wasn't forgetting anything.

A groan came from the other side of the door just as she reached for the knob.

Another groan, a masculine one, joined.

And then another.

And another.

* * *

A woman let out a strangled gasp somewhere behind them. Jean knew what was coming next. He whipped his head around and growled, "Shut up!" They all stared at him with wide eyes. Two of the men, who'd been sitting in a corner, scowled and stood up, oozing of bravado.

"Listen—"

"No, _you_ listen," Jean gestured to the windows, "see what's out there?" Confusion covered their faces, quickly followed by fear. "Now, if we don't want any of _that_ getting in here, we're going to keep our traps shut, got it?" They all nodded hastily.

"I hope Mikasa's okay," Sasha texted furiously. "Right now, she's probably at the park, out in the open, surrounded by people."

"We're sitting ducks here, too," Connie fidgeted nervously.

"They're distracted now, but eventually, they're gonna notice," Marco nodded, pale-faced.

"We should call the police! The SWAT! They'll take care of it," a mother of two said, clutching her children tightly against her body.

Sasha shook her head, "We saw the news. This is happening everywhere. There were military trucks driving towards where these...things came from."

"S-so what?" A young man holding his girlfriend's hand said, not getting her meaning. "It doesn't kill to make a call anyway."

"Don't you understand?" Jean hissed. "They already know what's happening. Soldiers were sent in and look what happened," he waved his hand at the slaughter outside. On cue, a couple of zombies in military uniforms ran close enough to the restaurant's door to cause its every occupant to freeze simultaneously.

"Then we need to barricade the door and the windows," one of the men hissed.

"We may lock them out with that, but we'll also locks ourselves in," Jean argued.

"You do what you want," the girlfriend stood up, ignoring her boyfriend's plea to sit back down. "I'm leaving."

"No," one of the men stepped in her way. "You leave, they'll see where you came from and come in here."

Before a full argument could break out, a waitress staggered out from the kitchen, making everyone jump. Blood covered her clothes. "She's one of them!" Someone shouted and they all scattered away from her.

"I-I'm not."

"What happened?" The mom asked.

"T-the cook, he tried to leave," she was staring at them, but Jean didn't think she really saw them. "The back door and he...when he came back..."

"He what?" Marco asked.

"Shit! He might have left the door open!" One of the men cursed and ran into the back.

"He just...turned and started attacking Mary!"

"What?"

"How?"

"Was he bit?"

Screams came from the kitchen. The other man ran into the back, ignoring the people trying to stop him. "He's my brother!" He shoved them out of the way and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jean made split second decision. "Let's go!" Without another word, he threw the front door open and took off. Marco, Sasha, and Connie immediately ran after him without thinking. Looking around wildly, he saw some zombies running out from the restaurant across the street to chase after them. Ignoring them, he kept his eyes forward.

Fortunately, most of the undead were more focused on those trapped inside and too slow to outrun them. But the restaurant zombies kept after them, and more joined them soon enough. Jean was suddenly grateful they'd left the car parked at the end of the street, close to the music store that had been their original destination.

He dodged the three car pile-up and continued to run, deaf to the pleas of those trapped inside. Most of their chasers stopped to snack on those unfortunate enough to survive the crash. Remote in hand, he unlocked his car and threw himself into the driver's seat, jamming the key into the ignition. The owner of the music store was crouching in front of her store, just a few feet from Jean's car, stuffing a chunk of her boyfriend's flesh into her mouth.

Agonizing seconds later, three doors slammed shut and loud breathing filled the inside of the blue SUV. Jean slammed his foot on the gas pedal and tires squealed before the vehicle lurched forward. He made a hard turn, leaving their stalkers behind. He opted for the freeway less than a block away he knew was mostly empty. The massive highway was sure to be a trap. Jean shot past the few cars on the mostly barren road, going well over a hundred miles an hour.

"Our apartment's the other way," Sasha said quietly from the backseat.

"It's most likely overrun by now."

"But—"

"I can pull the car over, and if you want to go on your suicide run, be my guest."

No one said anything after that.

Several minutes later, they pulled off the freeway and Jean slowed down. The difference was surreal. People walked on the sidewalk without a care, cars made a full stop at the Stop sign, there were no screams or cries or howls. _It'll change soon enough, won't take long for those things to get here._

Reaching a small neighborhood, they stopped before an average wheat-colored house. Jean exhaled slowly, tension leaving his body when he saw his mom's car parked in the driveway. "This is my house. We're going to grab some supplies then get the hell out of dodge. You said your parents own a farm in the country, right?" He looked at Sasha.

"Both our parents live in that town," she answered.

"Good," he nodded. "I'm gonna get my mom, then we'll go to your parents'."

"What about you?" Connie asked Marco. "What about your family?"

"It's just me," he shook his head.

"You guys can stay here if you want. I don't plan to take more than five minutes."

Connie shrugged, indifferent. "We'll stay," Sasha pulled out her phone and opened the door. "I'm going to call my friend again."

"Why did you do that?" Marco finally asked as they reached the door.

Jean stuck his key in and unlocked it, "Do what?"

"At the restaurant, just take off running like that. All those people...they—"

"—were as good as dead, we would have been, too, if we'd stayed. They were in the back and outside as well. At least we had room to run outside. Once the zombies in the back came out, the ones outside would have noticed and come in, trapping us. If anyone there had any common sense, they should've run like hell, too." He was pretty sure their made run had attracted the a lot of attention and cleared the path of the others in the restaurant, making it a little safer if they wanted to leave.

"Maybe we—"

"Don't bother with Surviver's Guilt. It was useless before, it'll do you no good now." Jean grabbed a couple of his mother's recyclable grocery bags and held them out. "Gather all the non-perishables. I'm gonna go get my mom." A dull thud resonated from the second floor. "That must be her."

Marco quietly began emptying out the pantry while Jean ran upstairs.

* * *

Petra stuck a bookmark and closed the novel. She walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out an orange box. She was nibbling on a slice of pepperoni pizza when she heard the buzzing. Before she could make way for it, it stopped. Drinking the last of the soda, she cleaned the dishes and checked her phone. _Eight missed calls? _The screen lit up again. It was her father.

"Dad?"

_"__Petra? Are you okay?" _He sounded relieved.

"Yeah. Are you?"

_"__Tell her to drop everything and leave right now!" _

"Was that mom? What's going on?"

_"__Honey, there's some people going crazy and attacking each other. You need to be careful." _

"What—" Her mother was saying something again but Petra couldn't understand. It sounded like her father was arguing with her.

_"__We're packing and leaving right now. You need to do the same. Remember that town we went to a couple of years back? Oak Heart?"_

"Yeah," she nodded.

_"__Meet us there. Your mom's old—" _The line disconnected.

"Hello?" She tried to call him several times and the connection failed each and every time. Cursing, she ran into her room to grab her go bag. Changing out of her summer dress and into some jeans and a thin jacket, she went back into her living room to turn on the TV. She needed to know what was going on.

At first, she thought there must be a horror movie marathon, her mind still stuck on the belief that there was some kind of massive gang war going down. Then she recognized the news anchor. Or what was left of his face. The feed quickly cut back to the news desk. The shell-shocked reporter just stared at the camera while the production people whispered commands at her.

The anchorwoman robotically read the reports of violence on the streets and it hit Petra full force. _That's what they were arguing about.._. Her mother was yelling at her father to tell her the undead were attacking and he didn't want to make ridiculous assumptions and worry her.

Petra's limbs stiffened in fear. She mentally cursed herself. Her mother had offered to teach her how to shoot and taken her to the range a few times. But she'd been so involved with her own thing, then she'd gotten that internship she wanted badly, and hadn't gone back. Those skills would have come in handy now.

_I have to move. Gotta get out of here and reach mom and dad_. She forced her legs to walk towards the windows. Everything seemed peaceful down below. She had to move before it all went to hell. Pinching herself, she forced her mind into clinical detachment. Go bag in one hand and keys in the other, she opened the door and quickly walked down the flights of stairs.

* * *

"We're almost there," Hannah said from the backseat. "It's just around the corner."

"There it is," Franz said from next to her.

Eren stopped the car in front of the red-brick house. They'd picked up the couple fleeing from a mob. Feeling a little guilty for leaving the people back at the campus to fend for themselves, even knowing it would only have gotten them killed, he'd stopped for Hannah and Franz. They'd been fast enough to outrun the zombies, but they got tired, the mob didn't.

Quickly, the four retreated into the house. Eren had enough control to ask for the bathroom before throwing up his breakfast into the toilet bowl. The death, the violence, the feeling of a human skull cracking under his hands, it all gave him a headache. After it felt like his body couldn't possibly squeeze out anything else, he swirled water in his mouth, trying to rid it of the bile taste.

He found the others gathered around the TV, watching the world fall apart and weeping. Armin held up a glass of water for him and he downed it greedily.

"What're we going to do now?" Hannah whimpered. "Where will we go?" Franz had no answer for her. All he could do was hold her and cry with her.

Armin turned to Eren, same questions in his eyes.

"W-we," Eren cleared this throat, "we're going to pick up your grandpa and go meet my mom and dad." He wrung his hands nervously. "They should've arrived at the Spring Falls cabin near the mountains yesterday."

Armin's grandpa was a smart man. And he knew how to shoot. They'd find him and drive out of the city. His parents would be waiting for them at the cabin and they'd figure it out from there. Right now the most important thing was to survive. He nodded to himself. Feeling slightly confident having a rather weak plan, but a plan nonetheless, and saying it out loud.

But what if his parents came looking for him?

He mentally shook his head, refusing to let his imagination run wild—hard not to with he TV providing plenty of fodder—and focusing instead on what he could do. _They're in an isolated cabin_. No phones, no TVs, no internet. They probably wouldn't even know what was going on until he interrupted their vacation and surprised them with the news of the end of the world.

"Okay," Armin nodded. Calmer now, he began making a list of the things they'd need for the journey and shared them with his best friend. They printed out a map, not knowing how long the internet and the electricity would continue working, and marked the routes to take and the ones to avoid. "...we'll take this small road here—there's a gas station out here—practically in the middle of nowhere, and fill up before we drive straight to the cabin."

"Sounds good," Eren said, happy to have his smart friend plan the details.

Now rested and fed, the duo was ready. With a plan, info, and provisions, they quickly said farewell to Hannah and Franz. The couple had decided to wait for their parents instead of venturing out.

"I've mapped the route to grandpa's store and all the things we'll take once we get there."

Eren imagined picking up Armin's grandfather and meeting his parents over and over in his head. _That's what's going to happen_. He would will it to happen.

* * *

**_Please Review~ _**


	3. Urban Warfare

**Chapter 3: Urban Warfare**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

**Previously**: Mikasa becomes trapped in her apartment. Jean, Marco, Sasha, and Connie flee the restaurant and go to his house. Petra's father calls and she leaves. Eren and Armin save a couple and rest up and make plans at their house.

* * *

The wood began to splinter under the assault. Mikasa snapped back to reality at the sound. _Another ten seconds, maybe less, and they'll get in_. Without wasting another thought on the hows and the whys, she ran towards the window and onto the fire escape. Howls filled her apartment as the door was knocked off the hinges. She kept her eyes glued to the metal stairs, racing down. The hair on the back of her neck stood at the inhumane sounds. With a grunt, she released the last ladder and climbed down.

Relieved no hands had suddenly grabbed her and yanked her back up when her feet hit the asphalt, she checked the alley to make sure it was empty. Mikasa ran onto the street just in time to hear the screeching of tires and see the truck smash into the crazed, bloody man who'd run in the middle of the lane. The driver got out of the vehicle, terrified, apologizing over and over, and knelt before him.

His hands twitched before locking around the woman's hair, ignoring her panicked screams and pulling her down. Mikasa stared in sick fascination as he bit her lips, as if he were giving her some twisted kiss, and snapped his head back, a wet tearing of flesh and agonized screams filled the air. Mikasa's hand found her lips and jaw, somehow expecting them to feel wet and torn instead of smooth and tingly.

A small red car swerved around the truck, coming close enough to the sidewalk for Mikasa to see the frantic driver.

Without thinking, she chased after it, no destination in mind. She just wanted to get away from the nightmare she'd just seen. When the car disappeared down the street, she kept running, letting her feet take charge. Her backpack was left behind in a hurry but she still had her bokken in a tight grip. Most of the people she saw around her were still sane, well, some were looting while others were panicking like hell and cursing, but at least they weren't chewing on each others' faces.

If she thought drivers were crazy before, it was nothing compared to now. She was glad she hadn't the chance to make it to her car. Multiple crashes as people drove like manics to get away from the disaster only created a bigger mess.

Mikasa kept on running.

_Where do I go?_ To her parents' house? No, it was too far away, even in a car. Maybe the water? Zombies in movies never knew how to swim. Except it wasn't the most reliable source. There was also the matter of her not owning a boat or knowing how to steal and drive one. _Wait!_ She remembered the voicemail._ Sasha said she and Connie are going to her farm!_ It was better than staying in town. After her family had moved to the city, Mikasa had gone there every summer during high school and knew where it was.

With no immediate threat in the vicinity, she took a few seconds break, body tensed and ready to move at the first sign of trouble, and studied her surroundings. It was only then she realized how exhausted she was, breathing loudly, sweating bullets with muscles aching in pain. Exactly how long had she been running?

To make matters worse, in her haste to get as far away as possible, she'd run blindly. She looked to the street signs to see where she was. Mentally, she cursed, not at all familiar with the area. There were small shops and apartments around her. But none that indicated they carried a map. Her decision on which way to run was decided for her when a mob came from up the street, causing the people around her to freak out and rush into the closest buildings.

Mikasa knew it was useless. It had only taken a handful to break down her door. Forcing her body to stay still, she took another few moments to catch her breath and think. Going against every instinct in her body, she turned back to the blue sign she'd passed earlier. Cerulean Beach. She ran back and turned right, muscles in her neck loosening after losing sight of the undead.

Several cars zoomed by. None stopped for the people trying to hail them so she didn't bother. She wasn't the only one with the idea to hit the water. Hopefully, she could convince someone to take her up north until they hit Clifton bridge and drop her on the other side of the river. She knew her way from there. And it was mostly flat ground after the town there. The town had a small population and based on the direction she'd seen the zombies come from, she guessed they hadn't been attacked yet.

It was a lot of guessing and wishful thinking on her part. But without anything else to go on, she followed the crowd of living racing towards the water.

* * *

Petra jogged towards her favorite bookstore. She'd seen the military trucks passing by there early that afternoon. It felt like the safest place to be at the time, with soldiers that had training and guns they knew how to use. The temptation to use her car had been hard to ignore. But the scenes from the TV were horrifyingly fresh in her mind. Those that managed not to crash were chased by both the living and the living dead.

She shivered, recalling the scene with a van swerving to avoid colliding into a woman in the middle of the road, waving her hands to get him to stop. Like locusts, the other humans had swarmed the vehicle and started pounding on the doors and windows, screaming to be let in, before someone had taken a baseball bat to the driver's side and pulled the begging man out and tried to get in. The undead had cornered them quickly and slaughtered every single one.

The area where the bookstore sat was very close to a hospital. She figured that was where the soldiers had been dispatched and was as good a place as any to try. Using a car and going about 30mph, it took about six minutes to drive to the bookstore and just under ten for the hospital. She was sure she could easily make it to the latter within twenty minutes. But only if she had been jogging.

Petra moved at a controlled pace, knowing that running like a madwoman would get her to the hospital quicker, but also gain her unwanted attention. And she had no reason to waste unnecessary energy. No one was chasing her.

Sticking close to the side of buildings, cautious of doors and windows, she snuck by, watchful of the few undead she saw. They weren't close and were more focused on the prey closer at hand. She saw no reason to give them an incentive and make herself look interesting. So she gritted her teeth, fighting the fight or flight instinct that told her to run, and kept at a steady pace.

Surprisingly, she managed to cover the entire distance without a hitch. Not going too fast and trying to stay as far from open streets to avoid attracting attention had worked. Ducking in and out of small alleys was the way to go. Unfortunately, she realized sneaky tactics wouldn't work any longer. There were simply too many of them the closer she got. They poured out from inside of buildings and cars and came from many directions. And the hospital.

Nausea crawled in her stomach to see the wave of undead run down the steps to chase after the trucks that raced by in front of her. Her lunch almost came back up when she realized her ride had just left. Slapping her mouth, she tore her eyes away and pressed her back against the wall. Petra moved deeper into the small alley, crouching by the dumpster. She peaked around it, feeling dizzy at the sheer number of bloodied bodies rushing by.

What felt like hours, though was only a few minutes, later, everything was quiet. No howls, no awkward, countless footsteps, no nothing. A good five minutes passed. She had to move, she couldn't stay. _Why not? _A frightened part of her argued. Hiding in a tiny cramped alley for the rest of her probably short, miserable life. Didn't sound too bad, all things considered.

Of course, that was when a corpse walked across the alley on the opposite side. She stilled, but it was of no use. The woman immediately ran towards her. She knew the fence would keep the zombie away but the noise would draw attention.

Petra didn't think she'd seen quite enough just yet to whip out the kitchen knife and stab someone's beloved grandma through the eye.

Instead, she darted out of the alley—after making sure the coast was clear. She had to choose between going deeper into the city or after the horde that just passed. The corpses had followed the trucks, the noise drawing the attention of others until most were gone. She saw some a block down to her right, further into the city. Crossing the street, feeling extremely exposed, she went back to her routine of slinking by the side of buildings, moving carefully.

It would be safer to follow the undead, less chance of such a big group coming up from behind and overwhelming her. Then a small group, stragglers that had seen prey and went after it, emerged from an alley and forced her to duck into a boutique. They must have seen something because the sounds they were making she'd only heard when they caught sight of a living being. Petra jumped over the countertop in the corner and hid.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face, hearing them come in. The counter was closed all around. Hopefully, if they came over, it would keep them back. She pulled out the kitchen knife. Listening to the footsteps to see how many there were was greatly hindered by the loud booming of her heart in her ears. They growled, coming closer. _They can hear it! _She panicked, pressing her hand over her chest in a futile act.

Before she could jump into action and move to the wall to get away from them, she heard them rush into the back of the store. The owner only managed a single scream before they were on her. Petra imitated a statue, only capable of listening to them kill her. All she wanted to do was sit there and hide for the rest of her life. But her survival instincts were stronger than she thought possible.

The zombies were distracted. Now was her chance to escape. With shaky fingers, she unhooked the latch and opened the door, grateful for the lack of creaking. Mindful of the dresses covered in noisy wrapping, she hastily exited the boutique, glad it didn't have a jingly bell, eager to get away. Movement from her left made her turn towards the shapes.

Panic that had started to build up quickly transformed into sheer relief at the sight of the camouflaged gear. The soldiers both pulled up their guns. Petra didn't hesitate and ran towards them. Something buzzed by her ear followed by a thud behind her. She stopped before them, breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?" The one with the helmet asked, concern clear in his voice. She nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't freeze," the other one, who seemed to have lost his helmet, said. "He would have gotten you if you had."

Petra glanced at the body with the broken leg. He was likely part of the group that saw her, but his injury made him too slow to keep up with them. She turned back and shrugged. "Didn't know he was there, but, since you didn't have your helmet I could tell you weren't aiming at me." She hadn't bothered to check to see if her guess was right and there really was something behind her. _Good thing too_.

"Let's keep moving," Helmet guy said, looking around. "We really need to get the hell out of here."

"Preferably before nightfall," his comrade agreed. "Let's go. I'll take point. Stay quiet and do everything we say," he told Petra. She opened her mouth to agree then shut it, nodding instead.

Satisfied by her answer, he started moving and she followed obediently, happy to have someone doing the scouting and watching her back. Much like she'd done earlier, they made sure to have something covering their backs so no one could sneak up on them. They moved in a crouch, ready to run if necessary, and quiet as mice.

All around them, the once beautiful city looked like a war zone. _How did this happen so fast?_ Broken glass crunched under their feet, extremely loud to their ears but almost unheard in the noises coming from every corner, from terrified screams to windows shattering to angry howls to the squealing of tires in the distance.

They had to stop near the edge of a red and cream building, a bakery. In front of them was an open ground before the buildings started again. A dozen or so trees cast shade over a grassy lot. Petra felt her insides grow cold at the sight of the colorful playground that lay next to it. Quickly, she snapped her gaze to the opposite side, refusing to linger on what might have been two adults crouching over something hidden to her, and tiny bodies surrounding something with a golden furry tail.

She felt an irrational itch to look over again and tried to squash it. Seconds passed, the tension in her body grew. _What's he waiting for? _Finally, he made a gesture with his hand that she missed and darted forward. A firm grip on her shoulder kept her from rushing after him. With bated breath, she watched him sneak by the trees, weary of what might jump out and attack him. Nothing did.

He knelt behind a wide stone slab that had the park's name engraved on the other side. _Should I go?_ Helmet guy still had his hand on her shoulder, keeping her still. The distance between the bakery and the other end of the park seemed to stretch on the longer she looked at it. Across the park, a small group was attacking the cars. A family of six had rushed out and piled into a green van, hoping for a hasty get away. The parents had been ushering the children to move quickly.

Groups moving fast and making noise attracted attention. They'd managed to make it into the car before being surrounded by all sides. Those who weren't feeding rushed forward and joined the attack. Pitched, panicked screams were drowned out in the growls and the banging of fists on mental. Petra forced herself not to watch. Her imagination had plenty to work with from just the sound alone.

Helmet Guy released his hold and placed his palm flat against her back, giving her a push. Petra began moving. A part of her wanted nothing more than to shoot forward like a bullet. Goosebumps crawled across her skin at having her back exposed. _I'm a third of the way there_. Across the street to her left, the undead howled in triumph. She was halfway there. Petra really, really wanted to look, the same way people driving on a highway took their eyes off the traffic-heavy road to look at a crash sight.

_Focus on him!_ It was with great relief she realized she was close enough to see him staring at her with slight worry. Likely a result of the panicky look sure to be on her face. She used him to stay on track, and as a system of sorts in case something came up behind her while she was busy looking forward. The back of her neck began to tingle at the thought of it but she firmly shut it out. He wasn't alarmed, in fact, he almost looked at ease now and it helped her tensed muscles loosen. Just a little.

He nodded to her as she collapsed next to him, muscles trembling. She inhaled and exhaled deeply many times, trying to calm her racing heart. By the time she managed to decelerate her heart enough that it wasn't pounding in her ears, Helmet guy had joined them. Taking out her water bottle, she took small sips, listening to them talking quietly before getting the signal to start moving again.

* * *

Petra's lower half was burning. Stubbornly, she kept her mouth shut, refusing to let on how tired she was. She tried to focus instead on the back of the buzzcut soldier in front of her. Still, deep in her mind she wondered why no one joined them. She'd seen the curtains flutter and faces peering down at them from apartments and office buildings.

They continued to move, past a gas station on fire, the heat from the flames was felt across the street, and a crashed ambulance. Petra could imagine it in her head, the injured party the paramedics had been trying to save had taken a bite out of them, distracting the driver. Most of the undead were busy gnawing on their friends and families and ignored them. The handful that didn't were quickly and quietly dispatched.

Petra's heart had nearly burst the first time it happened, when a young woman in a silk night gown and hair rollers locked gazes with her, face morphing into an expression of rage and running straight at them. Helmet guy had once again kept her in place while his comrade met her halfway and stabbed her with a mean looking blade. Slowly, he'd slinked back and they'd continued.

Further they moved away and Petra was surprised to see the orange rays. The sun would set in an hour or two. Finally, they reached a lonely residential neighborhood at the very edge of the town they were in. Long dark shadows everywhere caused Petra's paranoia to skyrocket, expecting something to jump out from every dark little corner.

Mercifully, the two soldiers shared a look and nodded. Helmet guy tapped her shoulder and pointed to a brick house. Movement was seen in other houses, it was hard to tell if the ones inside were living or not. She could see three zombies in the front lawns of two of the houses. Two were munching on a former pet and the other one was looking in the opposite direction.

Silently, they went up the porch. Large potted plants hung from the sides, blocking their view of the zombies and vice versa. Petra kept an eye on the street with Helmet guy and wondered how they were going to get in when she heard a soft click behind her. _By picking the lock of course_. She worried for a second about a home security system. Even if there was one and the silent alarm was tripped, there was no blaring so likely it wasn't a loud alarm, it wasn't as if the cops would show up to arrest them. At that point, she might even welcome it.

Sneaking inside, they quietly shut the door and locked it. They stood still for a few moments, listening to anything that might give them a hint to whether the house was occupied or not. The trio was met with silence. "Stay here and keep away from the windows," he said and went up the stairs.

Her stomach clenched in anxiety at being left alone. _I'm not alone._ Helmet guy was still on the first floor. She could see him going in and out of rooms. Petra only allowed herself to relax when they were both back in her sights and at ease. "First floor's clear."

"So is the second."

Helmet guy looked like he wanted to say something but stopped when he saw Petra take off her backpack and collapse back onto the couch. Changing his mind, he turned to his comrade. "Help me with that," he said, nodding to the tan recliner. Removing their packs, they pushed the piece of furniture in front of the door as quietly as they could. "I'll go secure an escape route."

"I'll go check the pantry," he nodded.

"No, you take care of your arm first."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Petra asked, watching him remove his jacket. The sand colored shirt was bloodied on the right biceps. She wondered how she missed the red stain on his jacket sleeve. Though in her defense it was rather small and her mind had been otherwise occupied.

"Just a cut," he unwound the red cloth.

"I'll be right back," Petra said.

She stood and went upstairs, checking for the master bedroom to search the bathroom cabinet. She doubted the medical stuff was kept in the bathroom downstairs. No need to use their supplies just yet. After thoroughly washing her hands, she took the items back down with her. He was sitting without his shirt, frowning between the needle he held awkwardly in his left hand and the injury on his right arm.

"Let me see that." She sat next to him and studied the wound. "You're definitely going to need stitches." She could see a piece of glass embedded in the wound and pulled it using a pair of tweezers from the downstairs' bathroom.

"We're good for the night." Helmet guy came back and dropped onto the recliner. "I leave you alone with a girl for five minutes and you're already shirtless," he teased.

"You've walked in on me doing worse."

Helmet guy made a face. "I did not need to be reminded of that."

"It's your own fault for not knocking."

He shook his head, trying shake the horrible image out of his head. "I'll take first watch." They nodded, and he realized they hadn't introduced themselves yet. "I'm Farlan Church, that's Levi Ackerman, in case he forgot his manners and went straight to the undressing part. What's your name?"

"Petra Ral." She placed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the table and began cleaning the wound with a cotton ball. "And thank you, for earlier. I didn't get a chance to say it."

"It's alright," Levi shrugged.

"Don't move," Petra slapped his bare shoulder, needle in hand.

"Yes, ma'am." It wasn't sarcastic, a soldier's reply to her order so she didn't say anything, beginning a simple butterfly suture. "You know, I'm surprised you managed to keep up with us. And without complaining, too."

"Med school's stressful as hell. Running and yoga were my way of dealing with it. But that didn't mean I wasn't cursing you non-stop in my head the entire time."

"You're a medical student?" Farlan asked, both were looking at her in interest.

"It was going to be my last year. Then I had a five year general surgeon residency. At four years of pre-med and three of med school, I was only a little more than halfway there to becoming a fully-certified surgeon."

"Halfway there, huh?" Farlan leaned back in his seat, making himself comfortable. "Considering the world has gone FUBAR, we'll take what we can get. That's an acronym for—"

"Fucked up beyond all repair, I know, I watch movies," she smiled.

"How did you survive? Earlier I mean, at the dress shop. We saw them go after you and heard the screams. Was there someone else in there?" Levi guessed.

Petra nodded grimly, "I didn't know."

"Why were you going into the city anyway? You seem pretty smart, and ready," Levi gestured to her backpack. He thought she'd have known better than to venture into such dangerous territory.

"Mom's ex-military, she calls to remind me once every month to keep my go bag updated." Petra studied her handy work. "You're good."

"Thank you."

She picked up where she left off, "I stopped at a bookstore nearby earlier this afternoon and saw the trucks. I checked the news before I left and it didn't seem like that part was overrun, yet. In movies, all the important people get evacuated first and I figured you guys might be heading towards the hospital. I was a little too late and ended up being spotted, so I ran into the boutique to hide."

"You are right," Farlan nodded. "About why we were there."

"So, what are you guys? The army?"

"We're both from the AGR, the Active Guard and Reserve, part of the National Guard. They sent us to protect the hospital and the medical personnel. There are bigger hospitals deeper into the city but you can imagine how that might have turned out. But who knows? Maybe they did send soldiers."

"Not like the great generals would share their war plans with us. We're pretty much the lowest on the military totem poll," Levi said.

"Our job was to send people to the hospital to be evacuated. The two of us ended up being separated from our unit. We waited for that horde to clear before trying to follow the trucks and found you."

"So you don't know what's going on?" Petra asked, feeling disappointed. She didn't know why she thought they might have had some answers.

"Like Levi said, we're just the grunts. Anyway, you're the doctor, or close enough, you'd have a better chance than us at understanding what's going on."

"I don't know any more than the next person," she shook her head.

Levi scooted back, "Well, if don't mind...?"

Petra moved to the other couch to let him stretch his legs and lie. "You should sleep, too," Farlan settled into the recliner. "We all have to take turns keeping watch."

"I'll take the next one," Levi offered. He was used to sleeping on command. A skill the two soldiers had picked up. It'd take Petra a while to fall asleep. He wanted her rested enough by the time his shift ended to wake her and take his place and not fall asleep on them.

"You don't have to worry about me sleeping on the job," Petra said. "I was training to be a surgeon, remember? Pulling 30 hour shifts isn't uncommon. And med school is no walk in the park either. I had plenty of tricks to stay awake to study for exams."

"Good to know," Levi muttered, voice already sleepy.

"Keep your shoes on," Farlan advised. "In case we need to bug out."

Petra contemplated taking her jacket off. She didn't like the heat and knew she wouldn't be able to sleep with it on. She decided to use it as a blanket instead. When the time came, it wouldn't be too hard to throw her arms into the sleeves, grab her bag, and run like hell. Or ditch it outright, if worst came to worst. She had another in her backpack.

If Petra thought running around on day one of the apocalypse was bad, trying to avoid the zombies and the general panic and confusion at the situation, she had no idea just how much worse the night was. How it was possible to be feeling worse in a relatively safe place she didn't understand.

Maybe it was because she knew there were monsters right outside. On streets at least, the adrenaline made it easier. You tried not to be seen, and if you were, you had to kill. It was kind of easy in that sense, knowing what to expect and what to do. Inside, safe for the time being, her imagination ran wild. And that wasn't her only problem.

Now, with her instincts quietened, her mind started acting rational instead of focusing purely on survival. How had it happened? Why had it happened? What exactly was it? Could it be stopped? Or was the world as they knew it doomed?

Petra's body was exhausted but her mind was too worked up.

Levi had already drifted off to la-la land by the sounds of it.

She turned to Farlan, needing a distraction and something solid to focus on instead of the pure terror that refused to let her rest. "What are we doing tomorrow?"

Understanding shone in his eyes. "We'll go after the trucks, to the airfield where we set up base and are evacuating the civilians to."

"Why didn't we just steal a car and drive?" The question was already out before she remembered why she'd avoided driving in the first place herself. "Never mind that. Actually, why not wait for them to come back for more people tomorrow?"

"They won't be coming back tomorrow," Farlan answered.

"Why not?"

"Urban warfare," he explained. "During a crisis like this—although not that anyone ever expected something like this to actually happen. Anyway, in these kinds of situations, the longer you stay in a heavily populated area, the lower your chances of survival become. Every single minute spent in the city felt like the ticking of a time bomb."

"It's why you were so intent on getting out as soon as possible."

"Especially in this situation. Right now, the tangoes—the targets, the zombies—have plenty of food and choose to go after easy prey. Soon they'll start going into buildings instead of looking around the street. And then there will be too many to sneak past. Cities will become death traps. Who knows how long the process will take? A few days? Or just one day? A couple of hours, maybe? Truth be told, I'm not too keen on staying here either." Except the land became flat and almost desolate after they left the residential area. It was late evening and the sun had almost set. They did not want to spend the night out in the open. And even in the summer nights were cold.

Petra digested his words. Closing her eyes, she tried hard not to imagine city-wide waves of zombies sweeping across the country. It was easier said than done.

She turned her focus to something else. Like Levi's soft snores less than three feet from her head. She let the rhythm of his breathing lull her to sleep, to nightmares full of blood and death and no escape.

* * *

_**Please Review~ **_


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